


What's really lost

by marvelhottie2



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Crying, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt Steve, Kisses, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha don't cry please, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Steve Rogers Feels, Teasing, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6514852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelhottie2/pseuds/marvelhottie2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She has all of you, and I'll only have a piece of you."</p><p>The compass is gone, the only memento Steve has of Peggy, and probably Natasha lost Steve's trust as well. But everything happened already, and Natasha tries to find another way to get to him again, and she'll probably find herself in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Morning

Natasha was descending toward the lobby where people come and go. She will soon depart the agency but she halted herself when she caught a glimpse of the sandy hair and beaming sunglasses of Steve behind the glass door at the entrance.

Everything was slow when he entered the lobby and Natasha is sure she can see every strand of his hair drifts in a different direction when the wind shuffles above. She can also feel her breath change its pace, her pathetic heartbeat quickens that the blood in the base of her ears roared against the skin.

Two green eyes peered at him, hoping Steve will look at her, hoping he’ll give her a little smile as if saying he forgives her. Natasha sighs, she may fool herself from an illusion but she cannot fool reality. He’s not really far from her which makes the situation more complicated for her to maneuver.

It took a minute for Natasha to process her mind when she realizes she’s been standing and gawking in the middle of the way, she started to stride to the exit, feeling the cold stares of the people around. She moves forward and Steve side wards away from her direction. If he ever catch sight of her which means he consciously ignored her then she’ll distance herself from him for the mean time because it’s for the best.

But it’s been a week since they last converse. He occasionally talks to her to ask a question or to say something. If Natasha starts talking about the problem in between them, he dismisses her saying he doesn’t have time for that at the moment, saying his busy. He was never too busy to talk to her.

Maybe because it’s about Peggy. It is about her because Natasha lost the compass, the only memento Steve has of Peggy, and it’s gone. In her defense, she didn’t mean to misplace the compass, it just vanish in her pocket, like it just evaporated into air. She searched for holes in her pockets, even in her pants but there’s none. Natasha tried to reason with him but he wouldn’t budge, and he’s been an ass to her ever since. She actually wonders why he gave it to her for safe keeping in the first place.

_And she remembers she’s the one who initiated to keep it._

Natasha has been searching for the lost compass but there’s no trace for it. Upset is not the word to describe his state, he probably despises her for losing the precious relic.

It doesn’t feel normal without feeling his sultry stares from afar, those crazy smiles he gives her when he’s trying to tell her an inside joke, the stupid little tugs on her hair when he’s teasing, the moments he kicks her feet under the table on those briefings, and that one moment when he told her he loves her-

“Nat!” the banter between her thoughts were gone when Clint emerges from a crowd and runs towards her direction so fast.

By the time Clint was close at her she’s sure he’ll hit her with the uncontrollable speed, and he did. Natasha swerved but she manages to lose her balance that she‘ll soon fall on her knees. But a hand lingered on her arm and another on her hip and she shivers when a warm finger touches the exposed skin there. Her back landed on Steve’s chest that she can feel his chin rest on the top of her head. She just wanted to stay there enclosed with his warmth but nothing last forever. 

“Good mornin’ Cap.” Clint greeted as he nods his direction to Natasha in an apologetic kind of way, but she can see the amusement behind.

“Good morning.” Steve replies.

Natasha straightens herself and releases herself from his caress and momentarily wishing she hadn’t. When she forces herself to look at Steve, she finds him looking at her as well. The azure orbs as deep as the ocean flutters on her emerald ones that initiates a tiny small from her and gladly, Steve gave a small smile as well.

“Good morning, Nat.” he said quietly.

Natasha purses her lips, “Good morning.”

“You know, I am actually liking this leather jacket thing and that tight shirt of yours cap, makes you look like a superstar, chicks gonna dig it.” Clint comments and purposely eyes Natasha in his peripheral vision.

“I limit my charms, Barton.”

Feeling smothered with the sudden lack of oxygen, Natasha was surprise when she clears her throat to dismiss the conversation. She didn’t even speak and everything is done, Steve is walking away and Clint is grinning like a fool.

As soon as Steve is out of earshot, Natasha started to march outside the facility and the coldness fades away when the sun gaped at her. “I can’t believe you did that Clint.”

“You need a little push.” Clint said following her big steps until he was three steps behind her. “Marry him before he marries someone else.”

“And you actually pushed me? It was so embarrassing, a lot of people were there looking and listening to make some ugly gossip about me and him again.” Natasha fiddles her fingers to hear her keys chime to soothe her frighten nerves.

“Come on, I’m your wingman, I had to do it.” He reasoned.

“You’re hurting him with those little jokes you are poking him with.” _And I am hurting as well,_ Natasha thought. Considering Clint to be her best friend, she couldn’t bring the topic about the compass, heck she hasn’t told him yet. She wants to solve this on her own and involving the birdbrain is not a good idea.

“He loves you Nat, come on, you know it.” Clint taps her shoulder and poked at the same time, still implying.

Of course he does. Natasha wonders if he still does.

“Of course I know, he told me.” She blurts and wishing she could take it back, it’s one of the topics she can’t and doesn’t want to discuss with anyone but the moment the word went out, Natasha cannot stop talking. “He even asked me on a date, but I- didn’t want to.”

If Natasha could turn back time, she would say yes, she would date him and feel him and kiss him-

But if there are things which aren’t compact yet, it’s her feelings. Natasha still doesn’t know if she loves him or even like him more than a friend. It’s a case to collect and scrutinize, and till now, she haven’t finish.

“Wait what?” Clint was now three steps ahead of her, walking backwards to face her as he poke her with the original romance shit again. “Why on earth would you do that? Why would you reject the guy?”

“Clint that was months ago, besides I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship by entering a relationship I am not sure of.” She passes by him as they arrive in the parking lot filed by all-black cars and that one _motorcycle._

Clint was about to speak but Natasha raised a finger that could hurt him really badly if he doesn’t stall. He raises two hands in surrender. “And besides, the only thing I care about right now is to make amends with him.”

Natasha turns her back against him and found her car waiting in cold for her. It was enlightened when the remote bring it back to life but Clint is not yet finished. She shot him a dead look and opened the car door and slide at the driver’s seat.

“Okay, okay. Last question, why? Why are you making amends with him did you –oh” Clint looks furnished, finally realizing the distance between her and Steve in their encounter minutes ago. “You guys quarreled, again, why?”

“That’s another story to tell, but, not today. I want to go home.” Natasha fidgets to her seat, fingernails scraping the surface of her steering wheel as the engine roared in life, thin smoke filled the tiny space behind the car. “Let it be a mystery first.”

Clint barely nodded, and Natasha watches his curiosity in the rear mirror as she drives her car in the small path. She sighs to herself as she can feel the ghostly touch of her own hair on her arms, wishing Steve would tug at her curls again.


	2. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then it hit her. She always thought that he flirts for fun, that he flirts because they are teasing each other, and in some effort, he actually meant most of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no regrets writing this chapter. Very romantic *sighs*

As Natasha unbuckles her seat belt and kills the engine of her car, she grips tighter at the piece of paper in her left hand. Now that she have listed all the places she have been before the compass disappeared, she unruffled it to glance at the ugly scribbled words that she constructed herself, hoping she’ll find what’s gone lost.

A lungful of air is all she needed before she exits her vehicle. She keeps her head low as she approaches the ice cream parlor where she usually orders rainbow sherbet and strawberry. And where Steve orders that cookie dough. 

A smile widespread her face as the memory of him lingers at his first attempt of trying the flavor. Like he couldn’t believe how it tasted like melted cookies or how good and sweet it is in his mouth. And how he complains how the cone was too small for his hand and how he could easily swallow the whole thing.

The tiny bell rings as she pushes her way in inhaling the vanilla scent. Natasha had always liked the divine aroma of the place. It feels like being surrounded by comfort which draws her away from battlefield.

Nobody is inside, there’s just one unfamiliar lady cleaning some ice cream scoops in the sink and when she spun around, she did a double take, eyes widen as she gapes at her with her mouth open, hands trying to hold on something for Pete’s sake.  
Natasha pretended not to see the lady under her shades. Knowing the average of people coming in the place, she didn’t bother blending in with the crowd by covering herself with nerve racking clothes.

“Can I help you out with anything?” the lady asked, keeping her face neutral as Natasha approaches the counter though she’s sure the lady is about jump on her.

“I was just wondering if-” Natasha’s eyes fell on the lady and realizing she’s new. She’s not the usual middle aged lady who takes her orders with the strange smile on her face. If the compass happen to be here, will the lady even know? “-By all means, have you seen a compass about this big.” She fiddled with her palm, imitating the circumference of the relic, “It’s not like it’s a luxurious treasure, but it has sentimental value.”

The lady has her mouth shaped into an o, looking apologetic. Natasha can see her effort on trying to be as casual and as calm as she can be, as if she doesn’t want to disappoint the black widow in the first meet.

Natasha expected the failure in her when the lady said that there’s no compass found. She sighs because it’s the only thing she can do right now to absolve her disappointment. How long she stood there, she doesn’t know, but when she senses the discomfort between her and the lady, she orders a sherbet.  
She wonders if she’ll ever find luck in her search for the compass because she’s starting to grow desperate. Natasha knows she’s bound to be unsuccessful, but there’s still hope in her, though it’s dissolving.

The lady mutters something Natasha couldn’t make herself to understand as she hands her the sherbet. “Pardon?” 

“There was this man who asked the same thing.” She said and she soon continued her sentence when Natasha bows her head down to look at her with her naked eyes. “He is a big guy about 6 feet tall wearing leather jacket with a cap and sunglasses.”

_Steve._

Steve has been here, of course, he’ll do something to find his precious compass. The thing that bothers Natasha is how he got away with that ridiculous outfit without being noticed as Captain America because he is not that discreet especially when he sucks at undercover.

Leaving the ice cream parlor with her autograph on the lady’s hand, Natasha crumples the piece of paper in her hand because it was rather useless going in those places when Steve have been there. Besides, people will get suspicious finding two people searching for that one compass.

She should have returned to her car and get home, but she saw that usual bench where she and Steve sit and just talk. It was never a thing, but they found it as their habit, grabbing some ice cream and snacks and just sit there to talk about the day, to talk about the things that matter to their jobs, to talk about those girls in the locker room who annoys Natasha very much because they always talk about men, about Steve, about her and she just-  
_  
“One look, and they shut up, that’s all it takes.” Natasha said as she crosses her legs and finishes her cone. “People think that I am the bitch, but those girls are the real bitches. You know one day, you’ll just find their bodies scattered-“_

_“Natasha,” Steve warns, but there’s no sense of rage, just the softness of his voice that always shuts her up not because he intimidates her, but because there’s the affection she’s been missing out most of her life. He puts a hand on her knee and scoots closer before rubbing circles on the pad of bone on that knee. “Don’t let them get you.”_

_He hands him her burger from the bag and bites on his own. “Yeah but they piss me off. They converse as if I am not there.”_

_“They probably don’t know you’re there, because you are sneaky and you just come out of anywhere.” Steve replies with a mouthful of bread and meat inside his mouth._

_“That’s no excuse to be an ass about me and you and the others-“ she stops momentarily. “-is that good?”_

_Steve pauses for a second just to look at her before realizing she was gesturing towards his burger. She bites just a little and Steve mutters, “Grind meat.” And Natasha just nodded, seemingly amused by the taste until she notices the little bulge on his pocket._

_“You bring that everyday?” she inquired as she bites on her own food._

_“It’s kind of a habit now.”_

_She just nodded. She didn’t want to push the topic any further because he got that pitiful look when his eyelashes sweeps on his eyes and those lips that are curve downward when he’s sad._

_Natasha’s burger is barely finished when she gets up. “We better get going, the sun is setting.”_

_But Steve grips on her wrist and pleads using those damn blue eyes that Natasha felt her legs wobbles. He opens his mouth, but no words came out. He smiles and looks away before turning back to gaze at her again. “Can we stay first? Just a little bit longer.”_

_Natasha tilts her head. “Why?”_

_He smiles again, that dorky and boyish smile. “I kinda want to watch the sunset.”_

_She smirks, amusement plastered across the beautiful features of her face. And she laughs, just a little and softly as if she’s whispering some beautiful enchantments. “I didn’t think you were that kind of guy who likes watching endings like this.”_

_But she didn’t complain and sat down beside him again. “Well, not all endings are sad, besides, sunset just ends the day but sunrise begins another hope.”_

_“Hope.” She repeats._

_They sat there and just stare at the wide expanse of the sun spilling its colors on the huge dome above. Beautiful and breath taking, nothing like they have ever seen before, it’s probably because the sunset is not that bright, not all like an eye sore. And then there’s pink, a wonderful dab of pink making it a whole lot better just as the moon appears, slowly._

_“I am not really a fan of this sunset thing but the moon is beautiful.”_

_“I think you’re more beautiful.”_

_Just as she turns to look at him, his hand presses on hers and she realizes that he was watching her the whole time. He always think that she’s beautiful than anything else, more beautiful than that one flower she found on her desk, more beautiful than the fiery fire she created one time, more beautiful than the moon-_

_Then it hit her. She always thought that he flirts for fun, that he flirts because they are teasing each other, and in some effort, he actually meant most of them._

_“Natasha I think I love you.”_

When she finishes her sherbet on the bench, she came back inside her car and she probably wants to run herself with it because the more she thinks of it, the more she desperately wants to find the compass. Dating him was never an option, but that was _before._ She doesn’t want to change anything between them. She didn’t want him to give those looks to another girl, she didn’t want him to find another girl, and she didn’t want to lose _him._

It occurred to her that the compass could have slide off of her pocket, and she felt stupid for not noticing, god, it was in her pocket, just a cloth away from her skin she could have felt it when it slid off.

She kicks open the car door just as it hits a huge figure outside and a huge wave of panic surges over her. “Damnit Natasha.” She mutters. She wanted to kill herself for being overly distracted at, well, mostly _everything._ She needed to fix things and yet she keeps creating new problems.

“Are you alright?”

She asks. And regrets. Apparently she found her favorite soldier in that leather jacket, with that stupid cap and those sunglasses. She wonders if he really assumes that he’s completely unrecognizable at that get up because she can see Captain America through it.

He wasn’t hurt, he perfectly handled himself and Natasha never felt nervous around him because she was just thinking about him a few seconds ago. And now he’s here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos :)


	3. Being foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You love him don’t you?”

He still has his hope, the compass is gone but it's somewhere there of course. The bridge of his nose starts to itch and his eyes are sore from the sunglasses. It wasn't wise to peel his glasses away openly in public, but it occurred to him that it doesn't matter due to the amount of people in the place.

He blinked a couple of times to become acclimated at the fading sunlight. Steve regrets looking directly at the sun as it pierced his sight, so he shoves himself away and he saw a brief amber of strands when a cold breeze was blown.

And it seems he was blown away as well.

He felt his lips tug a small smile as he watches the fiery red curls dance with the wind. He can still remember the scent, sometimes it's that flower like smell with the hint of honey, sometimes it's that strong feminine scent that inwardly sends that crazy animal inside him which forces him to just bury his nose on the bundle of her red hair. It's also impossibly smooth and soft, but he also likes it when her hair is soaked in sweat and gunpowder.

But him fancying Natasha with a wide grin ended so quickly when he saw that frown on her face with her brows furrowed and cheeks shaken. She ran her hands on her locks and lets out a sigh as she enters her car.

From his distance, he can barely make out any details, but her shoulders are hunched forward and her hands are running on the wheel.

Just looking at her makes him realize how much he misses her. Talking to her is always the best part of the day, and those warm hugs and beautiful kisses on the cheeks and temples are everything to him. He hates seeing her in distress and he hates to be the reason of her pain. He's hurting too, and upset at the surprising turn of events, but he could never hate her, never will he, and as much as he wants the stupid argument to end, he chose to distance himself from her for the meantime.

Then she made this movement with her fingers where she rubs her eyes rather roughly and the first thing that came to his mind didn’t quite help him. _Was she crying? Oh god._ He felt his chest battered by the images of her weeping and he caught his breathing stop and go without rhythm. 

He found himself striding towards her in a quick pace, pulling his sunglasses on his face to wear it when he caught people gawking. At that point it didn’t matter to him if they have this crazy fight, nothing mattered to him but the thought that he made her cry, that he was the one who wrung those stupid tears from her.

Before he could manage to knock on her window, the car door pushed him with enough force to set him forward and to his relief, he got a hold of the side of the car and balances his weight before getting to his feet.

“Are you alright?”

He swung his way towards her direction when he heard the incredible punctuation in her tone, and relief washes him when she looks normal, when it seems that she didn’t cry at all and perhaps _she didn’t._

Nothing feels heavier than the weight of his eyes on her. His head is tilted sideways as if to make an effort to look somewhere else, but his gaze is transfixed on the green orbs scrutinizing him equivocally.

His shoulders are sunk forward, which hardly done anything to make himself smaller. Golden strands spill on his cap and his fingers are playing inside his pockets, and he watches her, watches her eyebrows furrow knitting some lines on her forehead, her lips pursing, her eyes twitching-

“Hey.” She said.

And he found himself saying the same, “Hey.” immensely realizing how stupid it was for them to be standing and staring at each other for a long time and just say _hey._

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hit-“

“No, it’s okay.” He replies and another long pause occurred between them.

He tried not to panic so he proceeds on avoiding the subjects that will both bother them and as a matter of fact he tactically found a distraction to their blaring aura. But he knew it wasn’t right to shut her out like that again, but it’s the only way.

But he felt a light vibration in his left pocket and he stopped abruptly when her phone rang.

And they both went white.

* * *

The terrorists weren’t kidding. They managed to destroy at least a couple of buildings and the amount of damage will surely take the time of the civilians to cross over the debris, but that didn’t matter at that time, what mattered is that they managed to live. 

Only ten civilians died and most of the rest is wounded, but a lot of SHIELD agents didn’t make it. Natasha _almost_ didn’t make it when she was showered with bullets and surrounded by the combustion of fire. She barely dodges all of the gunshots because of the thick cloud of smoke enclosing her and she thought she was inhaling acid.

Now she needs to breathe within the oxygen mask as she tried to blink away the pain on her red eyes that made her look high. She had discarded her shirt as Clint treats her wounds either grazed by bullet or by the scattered fragments of metal and glass. Every dab of the cotton sends pain through her body and she blames herself for suffering intently. This couldn’t have happened if she wasn’t so distracted, if she wasn’t so _vulnerable._ She could say it’s basically Steve’s fault since he’s the source of distraction but he wouldn’t be mad at her if it wasn’t for her recklessness of losing the compass, it’s all going back to her and it’s all going back to _that_ issue.

“So you lost it eh?” Clint said and wraps gauze on the clean wound. “You know you could have asked for my help finding the creepy thing-“

“It’s not creepy.”

“It’s _ancient_ Natasha, anything ancient to me is creepy. You and Cap are creepy.” He chuckled and stopped when she glared. “Okay, seriously speaking, you could have asked for my help Nat, you could have asked me or Maria, we’re here my goodness. I didn’t think that this problem would be this big, it almost killed you.”

“I think that’s overreacting Barton.” She spat through the mask.

“Say what you want dummy, it’s true.”

_Well it is._ It might not only affect her personal relationship with Steve, it will also affect her working relationship with him. She loves it when people call them the Dynamic Duo (though she hides it) because work seems to be unbearable when people just give comments about you being a slut, about being a bad person but that didn’t matter when she get compliments on how amazing she looks when she’s with Steve, on how they were amazing at leading the field. But the reason she didn’t want her bond with Steve to disappear is because she didn’t want to lose him, she can lose the stupid flowery compliments but not him, anything but him.

“You love him don’t you?” 

She looks up at Clint and wanted to glare, but it just melted in her face and converted into a frown, like she cannot believe it, but it was so obvious base on all the thoughts running in her mind. _If I fail, I’ll lose Steve. If I fail he’ll hate me_. And she despises herself for a moment for being a foolish girl in love. But how could you not be foolish?

She probably does love him, probably a long time ago, she just doesn’t want to label it.

“Hey Cap!”

She almost jumped. And Clint left her to talk to him. 

“Can you patch up Nat? I need to take some painkillers. Oh yeah, she still have a bullet on her shoulder so you better dig it up.” 

_And he left. That fucker._


	4. The artifact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It sucks so much because I miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My eyes are drooping from editing this and I am not sure if all the errors are changed. Anyway, I enjoyed writing this Chapter.

The silence between them disturbs the calmness in her that she just have retrieved. If it wasn’t for the oxygen mask pumping air into her lungs, she would have fainted. She felt him walking behind her and at first she thought he’ll be leaving, but his huge figure shadowed her whole and his fingers tickled her sweat soaked skin when he took a delightful frail of red strands to get a clearer view of her naked shoulder (she’s surprise that he knows which shoulder).

He took the place where Clint was sitting and proceed on examining the throbbing wound on the expanse of white skin near her jutting bone. She took a sharp intake of breath when his thumb worries at the dried blood. The pain is magnified as blood dribbles down from the bullet hole and she winces and she thanked her hair for concealing her weary appearance. 

She bites her lip, relishing the feeling of his warm fingers on her cold skin, it feels like _home_. He takes a tool from the almost rusty tray and began _digging_ on her shoulder, and from the excruciating pain jolting on every muscle and every nerve in her upper body, digging is the right term to use though Steve is trying to be gentle as possible. 

Natasha swallows the air being forced in her lungs as he inches closer, and it really bothers her that no words are expressed between them when they are _this_ close to each other to smell the ridiculous yet intoxicating gunpowder and smoke from each other’s scorching bodies. Adrenaline pulsates on her veins and heat is now radiating on her skin as he continuously presses his skin on hers and her heart pumps blood faster with a pace that she could hear it. 

The overly worn bullet is thrown on the tray and she realizes that she’s soaking with her own blood. Steve presses a thick cloth over the wound and she whimpers a little bit as the pain drives her head into wondrous circles. From her murky hearing, she’s sure she caught him muttering “sorry” under his breath and he blushes, he’s turning red. Natasha’s left is holding on to the broken armrest and her right hand is digging on her palm to keep herself from passing out either from the pain and from the terrible hotness of all of this.

She managed to ignore the thudding pain on almost every part of her body when his eyelashes sweep on his cheek and he leans in closer. She didn’t mean to watch him, but looking at the faint freckles on his nose and cheeks, the gashes on his temples and on his arms which are individually darted by aids and gauze made her glad somehow because he’s perfectly fine (though the blush on his face is still there). And a smile crept on her. His eyes darted from her shoulder to her face and she quickly dropped her gaze elsewhere, forcing to melt the expression on her face.

“I thought we lost you there.” 

_But you didn’t,_ she wanted to say, but the hard press between the thick cloth and her skin stopped her from uttering a word. He finished cleaning and patching her shoulder and as well as the other cuts and burns on her body. Relief and comfort wash her when the pain in her body subsides that she let out a big soundless sigh, but it’s still impossibly hot.

Then he ran his fingers through her hair, softly picking the sticky red locks from her face, the smooth edges of his nails barely graze the damp skin of her face, and she shivers at the touch, suddenly feeling cold. 

He ties her hair with a plastic rubber tightly. “It feels terrible.” he starts and breathes above her ear, still trying to fix her long hair. “Seeing you alone, not knowing if you are okay, not knowing if you were still breathing there in the field, I feel so damn useless.”

She met his eyes, and she can see her vision clouded with the stubborn tears unwilling to let go. “I’m still breathing though. Besides, I’m not your responsibility.”

_“You are.”_ He punctuated the words as he drowns her with his big blue eyes, so clear and glass like she could easily look into his pupils. “You are my responsibility.” And then he bows that Natasha thought somehow, she upset him (more). He nuzzles on her neck, quietly enjoying the feeling of her around him. “Listen, I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of not being able to talk to you. It sucks.” He whispers. “It sucks so much because I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” _So much._ When the words came out, it sounded broken. Maybe because she wants to express more of what she feels.

_“You love him don’t you?”_

The thought echoes, but she couldn’t say it _now_ , not when Steve is so vulnerable around her, not when those are the words that he wanted to hear for a long time ago, it will be like an escape from losing the compass because she knows him, give him the adoration he wants he’ll forget everything.

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve shifts and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Natasha snaps back and gains her composure. A wide blush spread on her cheeks but that didn’t stop her from glaring daggers at the two figures before them. There’s a nurse and a SHIELD agent, and they flinch just a little as her stare penetrates them.

“Director Fury is asking for you personally, he wants you back at SHIELD.” The agent said and turns to look at Natasha. 

“Okay, just give me a minute.” Steve said.

“No it’s okay Steve.” Natasha said and he gives her this pleading eyes but she tilts her head to the side, motioning to the door. “Duty calls, we can talk later.”

As wary as he is, he gave her a tiny smile and a small nod of his head, although every bit of nerve in his body doesn’t want to _go._ He put an effort in standing smoothly and Natasha saw the wince that he covered with his usual Captain America face. He threaded his fingers on hers slyly and squeezes it, sliding the callouses and rough edges of his fingers on her supple hand before leaving with the agent and as much as she wanted to drift herself into a deep rest, she got the nurse to check out her wounds and vital signs.

 

* * *

  


Natasha was beyond furious. Somehow she developed a personal grudge against Fury for taking Steve away to be an accomplice on the investigation of another terrorism now located somewhere in Europe, and unfortunately Clint is sent away as well to include himself in another warfare on ending _another_ terrorism in Asia with the same terrorists, and she can’t even pull her phone to talk to Maria or someone because everyone seems to be busy in battle while she rests in her apartment for two weeks (she curses her injuries for that).

When she found a tiny note in her gym locker days ago, she was in a shell of relief to discover that he is okay and that he’ll be back in a week (exactly today). What bothers Natasha is how she wore the wide grin on her face while reading the note.

_I really want us to talk but Fury can be a bitch sometimes. I’ll be back in a week. Rest well, don’t be stubborn okay? Don’t get us worried. : )_

It’s just a note and she can’t help but be happy, especially about the stupid happy face on it (which looks really shitty) but when you really fancy someone that much, perhaps this little gesture of adoration can make your day better. [And she realized that she have fancied him for a long time when she usually laughs and giggles (yes, she giggles) at him for being such a goofball most of the time]

She didn’t bother wasting the remaining time of her two weeks off and started to tousle the cushions, the sheets on her bed, clothes in her closet, anywhere to find any hint of luck of finding the compass, but it’s been hours and she had only found her brush (which was gone for months now) the tiny naked teddy bear from Pepper and 10 dollars under her bed (yey).  
  
Still nothing, and she frowns at that. Natasha has been _through_ her garage and her car that she almost tore them to shreds but there’s still nothing. Her shoulder and other parts of her body started to throb again so she rests for a while as she pops her T.V. open and open a can of tuna.

Just then, her phone rang. And it was Clint.

_“Hey there Tasha, miss me?_ ” he greeted with ridiculous kissing sounds.

She almost drops the tuna. “What the hell Barton is this line secured?”

_“Of course sweetcakes but that’s not important right now.”_ He said and Natasha rolls her eyes at the pet name. _“By the way, I found this adorable cat on the street, it’s so fat and fluffy but I don’t know if I can take it home-“_

“Clint, you are calling me from miles away and probably jeopardizing the whole operation there just to tell me that you found a cat?” she didn’t find any amusement from her sentence but somehow, he laughs. “I’m busy, I still need to find Steve’s compass.”

_“I thought your boyfriend forgives you for losing the ancient thing.”_

“Stop being ridiculous Clint, he’s not my boyfriend.” Natasha spats with unbelievable rage and speed as she blushes. _She blushes and fuck it._

_“You mean not yet.”_

And she blushes harder, the tuna long forgotten. “Whatever Clint, I’m still searching for the compass whether he has forgiven me or not because I don’t want to be a huge disappointment.”

_“Stop being indenial, Romanoff. I can see you blushing from here.”_ Natasha wrings every self-control she has from shouting at her friend specifically for the sake of the pain on her shoulder. _“Anyway moving on, remember the ugly ass list of the places you have been the day you lost the compass?”_ He was almost out of breath in saying the sentence. _“Guess what Nat.”_ he sang.

“What?” She growled.

_“Now, now, don’t be rude at the cool person who found Steve’s precious artifact.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally they can get together. *sighs*


	5. Too cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint wasn’t joking. And just as she touches the familiar circumference of the compass, her phone vibrated and a message is displayed. Then her heart stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best one and I think there are still grammar errors. This chapter should have been the last one but it is way too long so I cut it.

“You are shitting on me Barton.” Natasha composes herself into a different position where she placed her weight on her left leg as she pumps tap water from the faucet. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.” She argued half-heartedly because she, too, is hoping for the best (and she swears she’ll strangle Clint for making her heart leap like that).

“ _I’m not kidding, Romanoff.”_ And Natasha is sure she can hear the audible sound of his deep chuckle. “ _Its seems that you guys missed a place. You told me Rogers went to the places you loiter the day you lost the- you know.”_ He said playfully as Natasha gulps down the almost too cold water and her throat immensely dried at the sudden contact. _“I think he missed a place.”_

Her face drained promptly and she began to sweat intensively at the thought, at the hope. Natasha’s lips tug at the corners and intimate interest flashes in her eyes.

_“Before I was sent here, I tried to find Cap’s compass as I promised. I began my search and got a lot of attention- because you know, I’m Hawkeye.”_

“Clint.” She groaned.

_“Right.”_ He clears his throat. _“Apparently, he missed or just passed by the bookstore at the corner near Starbucks? I got the address. Well, I guess he didn’t know you were there.”_

Oh. _Oh._ The bookstore. How surprising. There’s no hint of sarcasm in the thought, because of all the places Steve would miss (or forgot), Natasha couldn’t comprehend the idea of him missing the bookstore when he knows how often she drops by. And he knows if she’s been there when she’s jovial, or when he sees the brown-craft like paper bag either on the backseat or on her lap as she rips it open. Could he possibly forget all of those? Natasha pushed the thoughts away and tried to balance her now fuzzy head.

_“The lady placed a price tag on it, so now you owe me five bucks, and you owe your boyfriend as well.”_

“Oh shut up.” She said and withholds a smile that turned to be a tiny suppressed giggle. She can feel it, the warmth in her chest, the crazy emptiness in her stomach, the lurking giddiness in her that’s increasing her heart rate. It felt incredible, when everything is falling into places, on how the tables turned.

The pain in her joints was washed by the sudden ooze of ice down her system as her soul leaps.

“So where is it? I need to have it immediately.” She almost lost control of her hands when she walked back and forth in her untidy kitchen, kicking the empty water bottle to the side and shakily placing the phone on the other ear. “Is it in your apartment?”

The silence bothered her and she thought she lost the connection. It took her a while to get a response from him. _“Yeah, yeah, it’s in my apartment. I think it’s on my dining table or on the kitchen countertop-whatever-just don’t ruin my place like a maniac.”_

“Okay, okay.” But she was hardly listening under the loud pressure of adrenaline that she can feel her pulse pounding as her heart pumps the sickly energy in her veins. All of the garbage she found in her apartment is strewn away including most of her things and the remnant of a pillow she (accidentally) tore. “Just remember, I didn’t make a promise.”

_“I wouldn’t expect it from you.”_ He mocked. _“Don’t be too thrilled about it, I can hear you smiling from here Romanoff.”_

“Whatever.” She said. “And Clint?” her voice sounded like a hoarse whisper from the mere exhaustion of using one hand in pulling her boots. “Thank you.” There it is, finally. The sweet tenderness of sincerity, and Natasha swears she’ll kick herself because she never sounded like that.

“But I swear if this is some kind of joke, you know what’s about to happen.”

* * *

Clint wasn’t joking. And just as she touches the familiar circumference of the compass, her phone vibrated and a message is displayed. Then her heart stopped.

_Hey Nat. I just came back and I think we can have that talk right now. By the way, should I come to your apartment or should we meet somewhere? Call me._

She could have replied because she _should,_ but her battery died just before she can press a key. Her phone is warm in her hand and the compass is cold, too cold. There’s rust forming on the opening, and the metal surface is turning yellow. She flips it open, and she thought it was going to crumble to pieces on how fragile it became from all those years.

And there was the fading image of Peggy Carter. The first woman Steve ever loved. Natasha can barely see the details of her face, but she is beautiful. In every way, she’s good, a great woman by nature. Natasha could never top whatever she is and whoever she was. So when she decided to drive to his apartment, the questions unsettled her. There are so many, many questions and when she set eyes with Steve’s rusty compass, she saw a confirmation.

_She has all of you, and I'll only have a piece of you,_ she thought.

And the truth hurts because even if he said that he loves her, somehow in the back of her mind and from her assumptions, he still loves Peggy, and the evidence to that is the compass itself.

Then she laughs at herself for being a foolish girl in love, for acting like a jealous teenager and for doubting him. But she couldn’t blame herself can she? 

When she found herself in front of his door, the excitement is gone. The rush of adrenaline is replaced by the dreadful fogginess inside her that she can almost feel her heat rising. She slides the compass inside the pocket of her cotton jacket, and her hand didn’t graze on his door as it swung open.

A bouquet of what seems to be red roses was almost pushed towards her face rather gracefully. Her nose is tickled by the soft fresh petal that she could smell its grass like scent and by the time Steve notices the red head being muffled by the bundle of roses, she silently laces her fingers on the loose ribbons above his hand.

Then he looks at her with shock. “Are these for me?” she teases.

He closes his mouth almost slowly and he laughs with his lips pressed together. He steps forward and looks down on her before letting her hold the bouquet in both hands. “Of course it’s for you.” He smiles with teeth this time. “I was about to go to your place because you didn’t call. I got worried. Anyway are you alright? You seem exhausted.”

He didn’t have to point how her hair is disarray and how heavy her sweat seems to be. She waves him off with her hand and manages a smile. “I’m fine, It’s the weather.” He nodded but nothing in his expression says he believes her. “Thank you for the flowers, they are pretty.”

He smiles at her, letting a hand fall above her head before saying. “Yeah but you’re prettier.”


	6. So close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It doesn’t matter. At least I got the girl.”

And there is it again, him thinking that she’s prettier or more beautiful than anything else. Then in a sudden, the bouquet weights as he leads her inside his apartment. She shifts at the warm hand on the small of her back that she has to bite her lip to keep herself from making a sound.

“I think we’ll be having pizza today. I miss it.” He makes way pass to the kitchen and Natasha obediently followed his lead, comfortably sitting in her favorite spot in his couch. “You wouldn’t mind pepperoni right? I mean it’s your favorite, but you can be a little hard to read sometimes.” She shook his head at him and he frowns at the look of her face. Her mouth smiles but her eyes remain the same.

Steve dials the number, and everytime he pushes a button, she feels like he’s pushing the words, the questions she’s been begging to be answered.

“Steve, I’m sorry about the compass.”

His fingers stopped, and a sigh came out of him. He places the telephone down and turns to look at her. “No. No Nat, it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize.”

She shifts in her seat, letting her arm fall loose on her body to relax the muscles around the healing bullet wound. “That’s kind of a waste. I found it.” She pulls the compass from the pocket. On the latter, she gave up on trying to comfort herself on the couch and stands up to give him the small relic. “Well, Clint actually found it so now I owe him five bucks.” She closes his accepting hand with her slender fingers sliding along his knuckles. “He found it in the bookstore, my favorite bookstore actually. I guess you didn’t-“

“I went there. I asked the lady, but she said she hasn’t seen anything.” He held his closed fist in the air to emphasize his next words. “To my guess, she probably pasted a price tag on this. Don’t worry, I got your five bucks.”

The way he puts his words was to convince her that he is happy, that he was glad, and that he was okay. But there’s something in his eyes, like, a space of loneliness that she cannot fill, and she was rather disappointed at herself because she feels like it’s not enough.

“You still love her don’t you?”

But the question didn’t help (and she expected it will not). “Who?”

She looks down at his closed fist, his knuckles white. Gently, she envelopes his hand with both of hers and squeezes to ease the tension. “Peggy.” She looks up at him and his eyes hardened.

“Okay, Nat, listen. Just because I have an object that reminds me of her, doesn’t mean I’m still holding on to her. She’s important to me, yes, there’s no double meaning to it.”

Her face fell for a second before Steve speaks again. “You and Peggy are different.”

“I know you don’t have to rub that in-“

“No, no, you listen to me now Natasha.” He harshly placed the compass down beside the telephone and his hands find purchase to the sides of her face. Her eyes glassy and his soften a little. “You and her are different. She’s someone from the past and you are someone from the present and-“ he shakes his head as if dismissing a thought, and maybe he is. His grip from her sides softens until his hands fall onto her arms to squeeze gently as he looks down at her with his blue eyes hard, filled with melancholy and anger, anger for himself, and Natasha wanted nothing but to wipe that look from his face because it’s getting her. “-And sometimes, I wish you could be in my future.”

She didn’t want this, out of everything, _she didn’t want this._ She didn’t want to be the one to trigger his emotional distress specifically pointing the way he stressed the last word with him whispering the word in a soft breath, as if he’s pleading for her to be a part of it, to be a part of his future.

“I love you Nat, _only_ you.”

Her chest tightens as the words process in her. _I love you. Nat. I love you. Only You._ And it echoes in her head. In some other circumstances, she would have laughed, she would have smirked in amusement or cringe in disgust, but this is Steve, it feels different, it feels like he struck something inside her that wouldn’t be called humor, amusement or disgust. It’s _something._ She’s trying to figure the waves of emotions filling her but, no, he started talking again and she’s not sure if she can take it all.

“I actually stopped-“ he forced a small smile before she realizes how close they are that she feel the heat radiating on his body. “-I stopped searching for the compass.” Her mouth opens and he pulls her chin with his hand and it closed. He stares at her, and they are so close. _So close._ “It occurred to me that perhaps the compass was gone for a reason. So I told myself to stop finding it because it was, you know, meant to be I think. It’s time to make new memories.”

She smiles at that, but he puts his head down before he could witness the strength of her lips to hold such feeling. He loves her, _her_ alone.

“I don’t know why I’m saying this to you. I don’t know, and I feel entirely stupid for thinking and planning of my future- with you.” Then he pushes himself away from her. He rubs his fingers on his hair, and then on his temples as if to clear the expression from his beautiful face. “You don’t want to be with me. And yet you are asking me these questions.”

“I want to be with you.” She blurts. And his face is drained while her heart is still pounding in her chest, so hard she had the urge to throw up. She’s sweating harder, but his face is lit, like a sudden, all the primal sorrow and grief are gone, replaced by hope. _Hope._ Then something inside her stomach twisted at the thought that she gave hope to someone, to someone like him. 

Just then, he gained the distance between them and Natasha can see her vision change into a cloudy overcast. "I want to be with you. Why do you think I'm here asking all of those questions to you?" She can almost feel herself trembling. "Why do you think I'm here, Rogers?"

He didn't answer, she didn't expect him to because he's gazing at those perfect green orbs with hazel rims and it's just impossible not getting lost in them. He saw a lot of eyes before. Different shades, sizes and meanings, and hers are the most beautiful and powerful. And then her forehead is on his, his hot breath on her mouth. So close.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked, but nothing in it sounds like she’s trying to object.

And her next words were slightly muffled by his mouth pressing almost harshly against hers. But she didn’t pull away, because suddenly it’s gravity working for her. Her eyes fluttered close and she leans toward the kiss, parting her lips for them to savor the passion and the _lust._ He’s not terrible at it, he’s actually good, _great,_ because in no time, she’s catching her breath as he pushes air into her lungs just as he deepens the kiss. Then he pulls away just before she started getting used to it. His lips are swollen, red and very wet. And it’s parted and inviting, so there’s no word left because it died down when she tiptoes to kiss him again. 

Her hand is on his face and the other is on his wet locks, and he groans at how she pulls and twirls her fingers on them and how she kisses him. The kiss turned so passionate, and he feels so helpless at how she was kissing him. He indulges the taste of her mouth and returned the same passion by deepening it more with his hand on her slick hair, and he pulls her up with and arm and purchases her mouth with a different angle. And she moans and he groans at how hot everything is.

Steve scrambles to get rid of her jacket, he pulls the fabric from her shoulders and yanks it down roughly. She whimpered in pain when his hand hits her wounded shoulder. He mutters sorry, but she didn’t care because she was kissing him again. He finds his hand rubbing her back through her tank top and he kisses her harder, parting her lips with his tongue and opening his eyes slightly just to see how heavy her eyes were with desire. He delves in and explores her mouth. 

He stumbled on the couch, breaking the kiss again. He pulls her down on his lap, lifting her shirt above her head and witnessing the scars and bruises from their previous mission, and she never looked so beautiful with all those marks of her sacrifice, all of the marks of her bravery. She leans forward and kisses his mouth, then his jaw, then his neck, tasting the salt of his skin on her tongue and she latches on his pulse point. He grunts when she starts to unbutton his shirt but she grew impatient and pulls the clothing above his head and meets his mouth again.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said on her lips. Steve trails kisses down her throat, tasting the sweat, sucking on pulse points and touching the spot she didn’t know it would feel good. Her breath quickens and she moans everytime he sucks on a particular spot that drives her wild. Then something hits her that made her-

“Steve.” she pulls away from his caress, but he places his lips on hers again. “Steve stop, _stop.”_

He did, fear flashes in his eyes and he got this look on his face where his lips are swollen that she wanted to lean on him again. “Wh-Why? Did I did something wrong?”

“No.” of course he’ll ask that. But if there’s anything she didn’t want to happen, it was to stop (reminding her how aroused she became from that make out session, and he too seems to be completely caught up by what have happened). “No, it’s just that. We can’t do it, not yet.”

Realization hits him as well, and he looks down from her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t need to apologize-“

“I know, I know Nat. You’re right, we should wait.” He looks up and then he smiles, he gives her that smile that is only for her to see. “We don’t have to do it now.”

“Sorry.” She laughs. “Sorry I worked you up.”

And he laughs as well, tentatively leaning on her to kiss her nose. She sighs at the affection. He takes a hand and folds it to feel the bone on her knuckles, and he kisses it. “It doesn’t matter. At least I got the girl.”

_I love you Nat, only you._ He brushes a hair strand from her face and cups her cheek, and she does the same only seeing the couple of cuts on his face. She looks down at his body to see the bruises he gained from his latest mission, and there are scars as well. There’s a lot of time, she tells herself, there’s a lot of time to explore him, to explore every inch of his body, and he knows he’ll do the same to her. 

She kisses his forehead softly before engaging a tight hug, pressing her body on his, and it feels home. Making love can wait, anything can wait, but this? The moment where her body is on his, where they are indulging every second on each other’s arms, where he kisses her neck and leaves a mark, where he’s holding her so tight she might combust into flames. It can’t wait, they need to go home.

“I love you.” She whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not exactly the ending I wanted? But I think it turned out well. Anyway, thank you guys for leaving nice comments and kudos. (I think I should add a short epilogue to this?)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos :)


End file.
